It hardly seems possible that another Christmas has come and gone. I think it comes quicker than it goes, but then that is just my opinion.

It hardly seems possible that another Christmas has come and gone. I
think it comes quicker than it goes, but then that is just my opinion.
We were sitting for the last time around the Christmas tree which was
about to be disassembled and I happen to say, “I can't believe
Christmas is over. Where does the time go?”
To that, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage looked at me and said,
“The older you get, the faster time goes.”
I remember as if it was yesterday when without thinking, which is
usually dangerous for me, I once responded, “You must know.”
I got the “stare” that encouraged me not to respond in that vein ever
again.
However, and you didn't hear it from me, she is right. She is always
right. The older I get, the faster time seems to go. I cannot believe
that not only is Christmas past, but the whole year is passed. It is
all just history now.
But, oh, what history it was.
Sometimes it is interesting to think back over the past year and
remember some of the great occasions. By great occasions, I mean the
minuses and the pluses. Some memories are good and some memories are,
well, you know.
This is the genius of getting older. Now that I have another Christmas
under my belt, I can mesh together two or three Christmases as though
it was one Christmas occasion. After all, who is going to know, apart
from the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage?
Whenever I begin the phrase, “I remember a Christmas when...” I need to
look at my wife to see if she is listening. Of course, if she is not
listening, I can go along and invent my own Christmas tree story. I
like to do that.
There was the time when I first did this without noticing my wife was
listening and at every turn of my story, she corrected me. By the time
I was done telling “our” story, I did not remember what I said.
Years ago, however, I have learned how to tell these Christmas memories
and not get into trouble. One of the great things about being a husband
is that you are on a learning curve. If you just pay attention, you
learn how to deal with certain situations. When it comes to Christmas
stories and memories, I have mastered the learning curve.
I always begin it this way, “My dear,” referring to my wife, “do you
remember that Christmas when...” That is about all I have to say and
she will take the story from there. Fortunately for me, or
unfortunately, it just depends, I have no idea which way she is going.
Several times, I learned things about one of our Christmases that I did
not know before. Maybe I did know it before, but I had forgotten it and
I am going to let it sit there. I am not going to infer that she made
up any memory for the storytelling. I will not suggest that the memory
she was talking about had nothing to do with our Christmas history.
That is just the kind of husband I am. I will never, ever, correct my
wife about anything. Even when she makes a mistake in our checkbook, I
do the “husband math,” correct it and not mention it.
It is not all bad. Recently we were sitting drinking some coffee looking
for the last evening at the Christmas tree thinking about Christmases
in the past. Then I heard her chuckling. She does not usually chuckle
like this, but it was a special occasion.
“Do you remember,” she said still chuckling, “the Christmas tree that
collapsed on Christmas morning?”
I had to stop and rewind my memory machine and then I remembered. It is
amazing what you can remember when you have a little bit of incentive.
We had just moved into a new parsonage, it was our first Christmas
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